


Where Do We Begin

by casofsuburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Episode Related, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casofsuburbia/pseuds/casofsuburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had a rough childhood- abusive, alcoholic father. He had to protect his little brother, and that's what his whole life was. <i>Protecting other people.</i> What would happen if someone was going to protect him? Moreover, an angel? Dean never believed in angels. </p><p>But now he sort of does.</p><p>!Spoilers for Season 4 - Season 5 Episode 03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”

Dean and Castiel had met properly for the first time in days, or weeks even. Ever since he got Dean out of Hell, he’s always been on his mind. How he gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and the hunter never tried to struggle once he was in his arms. Castiel was the only one who remembered the time they shared in Hell. Once they were out, he had bargained with the other angels; he would not let Dean go if his memory of Hell was not erased. The angels could not do that, to allow him to forget what he’d done in Hell but they were willing to remove the memory of his journey out. He agreed to the offer. The reason why was Castiel saw the pain in his eyes during the flight back to Earth—he knew Dean saw the countless, other trapped souls who were screaming at him about how he didn’t deserve to be saved and that he was supposed to stay in Hell, where he belonged.

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

“Not in my experience.”

Castiel’s heart sank. He remembered.

 

“Hahaha, this… _this_ is priceless.” Dean said as the woman started to scream. The woman was old and frail, Dean didn’t know and understand why she would be in Hell, but he didn’t care. Hell was for torment, and he was here to do his job.

“Hold still, now. This won’t hurt a bit.” He said as he pulled out a razor, slowly slicing her legs—nice, long, and deep. _Perfect,_ Dean thought.

“Only a lot.” a smirk formed on his face as the woman squirmed under the feel of the cold metal against her skin.

“Please! Please don’t!” The woman cried out as Dean pulled out a lighter from his jacket.

“Aww. But we were just getting started.” Dean started to burn her hair, and then her cheeks and her neck. He got out a bottle of alcohol and poured it all over the burns and cuts on the woman’s body.

“Please! Please stop! Please!” the woman continued to cry, to scream. Dean didn’t care.

“Sorry, grandma. Welcome to Hell.” He said as he continued slicing and dicing the woman’s body until she was in pieces and never got to scream again. _One soul down, a million more to go._ Dean felt something in his heart spark. He enjoyed what he was doing, it made him… _happy._

Dean thought maybe this was his way of coping in Hell, and a continuation of the hurt he felt on Earth. He’d always remember being hospitalized after the car accident. In the back of his mind, there was something screaming at him.

_Your father never looked for you. Never looked for a way to save you. Your father never loved you; you were his pet, his toy, his soldier and nothing more, Dean. Not a son he could have loved. Just a soldier who was born into the world, whose sole purpose was to protect his brother. And Sam? Sam hates your guts for bringing him back into this life. This life he chose to run away from. But you pulled him back in because you couldn’t find daddy—because you couldn’t deal with it alone. You’re a coward and you deserve to rot in Hell for being nothing but a waste of space._

Dean fully believed this voice. He always did.

Dean fell asleep-- it was one of the perks of being the tormenter instead of the tormented. He woke up to realize his arms were locked above his head.

“What the hell?”

“Oh, good morning, Dean. You’re awake.” Alastair greeted Dean with a smile that wanted to make Dean throw up.

“Why am I here? I already agreed to tormenting souls. It’s been five years.” Dean glared at Alastair; they had a deal. But then again, when do you ever trust demons?

“Oh, you were enjoying the job too much. Hell is for eternal torment, Dean. I recall you’ve never been good with trusting people?”

“Shut up.”

“What’s that? Everyone always leaves you behind and you _want_ to talk about it? Sure, it’s not a bother. Remember Cassie? Beautiful girl, shame you had to chicken out on her and leave her when she was probably the only one who cared about you. Remember Mom? It was sad when you were too slow to call Dad and he found her on the ceiling in flames. Creative, ain’t it, Dean? Let’s save the best for last. Daddy dearest. Fun fact, did you know he sold his soul and the Colt to Azazel to save your pathetic, self-loathing ass? _This_ is totally worth the sacrifice Dad made, isn’t it, Dean?”

“Shut up!” Dean shouted as the chains around his wrists rattled.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” Alastair said as he pulled out a branding iron from the bed of hot coal and pressed it onto Dean’s torso. Dean shouted.

“We had a deal!”

“Ahh, Dean. No matter how hard you try, you will never become one of us. You’re too good for that. You’ll eventually come to your senses that torturing souls is wrong; even if you tell me you genuinely enjoyed doing it. You’re a righteous man, Dean. I don’t think you were doing the job well, too. Let me demonstrate the basics.”

He started to pull out his knife and started slitting Dean’s wrist and rubbed salt on the deep, open wounds. Dean rattled his chains louder, wanting to get off. They had a deal.

“You like this stuff. Why are you squirming?”

“Get me off the rack! I tortured souls! I’m not supposed to be here!”

“Oh, shush. You are too cute.” He continued slicing at Dean’s arms and then his legs. He carved his neck, and made his eyes burn. This went on for days.

_Someone, anyone… save me._

It was the fourth day and Dean couldn’t take it, he never wanted to be pieced up together again. He started crying, and Alastair found this amusing.

“Winchester!” he said, clapping his hands. “Are you… _crying?”_

“Go away.” Dean looked down, hopeless. He knew Alastair wouldn’t go. He’d stay there and cut him up even worse than the day before. He just wanted everything to stop. He just wanted to die. _To really die._

There was something new about Alastair today, he’d noticed though he’d only stolen a few glances out of fear. He glowed in the dark gloom of Hell, like he suddenly didn’t fit in. And his eyes, they were usually white—like the hottest fire. But it was different today. His eyes were a striking blue shade; like a sapphire gem, like the blue ocean on a sunny day. Although Dean thought it couldn’t have been good, he was glad to see a colour that he remembered on Earth. Something bright. Something _alive_.

Alastair walked towards him, and Dean started to shake anxiously.

“Do not worry, Dean. This is only a cover. Alastair is being held down by the other angels.”

“What the hell are you trying to do with me now, huh? Psychological trauma? Make me want to hallucinate? Make me want to think that things will get better, because look at where that took me!”

“No… that is not my purpose.”

“Oh, I know! You make me want to insane! This is great, Alastair. I only have all eternity to spend this time with you and your games.”

“Please listen, Dean. I am not Alastair. If I were, I would’ve been hurting you by now. I don’t know if you trust me, and it is not really my task to make you do so, but I will do what I was told.”

“Very funny.” Dean started to laugh. _Maybe he was going insane._ But he was in Hell. What did it matter?

Alastair started to break the chains and release Dean from the rack. Dean looked at him, eyes wide.

“What? You’re going to take me somewhere more miserable? Isn’t this just great, then!” Dean’s eyes were glassy by now, not knowing how much more of this he can actually take.

“I am growing impatient with you.” Alastair pressed two fingers to his forehead and the last thing he remembered were Alastair’s _blue_ eyes. His mind went blank and his vision blacked out.

When Dean woke up, he was in someone’s arms. He made it a point to look at the person’s eyes first and noticed they were the same one’s Alastair had before he blacked out. But he looked at the face—this man wasn’t Alastair. He had dark brown hair and pink lips. He wore a trenchcoat and a blue tie that matched his eyes. He felt something burn. He reached out his hand to his left shoulder and felt what seemed like a handprint.

“You did this?”

“Did what?”

“The handprint. Is it yours?”

“Yes. You are heavy. Why do you think I have decided to lift you instead of drag you?”

“Oh. So. I’m sorry. You weren’t really Alastair...”

“It’s alright. I understand.” They were still flying, away from the darkness Dean had known for forty years. Although he has spent more time in Hell than on Earth, he was sure he wouldn’t miss the place. No one would. But there was still this voice in the back of his mind.

“I should have stayed.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I did horrible things. Things that no one could forgive.”

“All sins can be forgiven.”

“I tortured people and I _enjoyed_ it. I laughed in their faces. I told them they deserved it. I’m a monster. I shouldn’t… I should’ve stayed there.”

“That’s not true. You’re a righteous man. You will never be one of them.”

“But I was so close to being one! And, if you bring me back on earth, everyone would just die. _Because of me_.”

“Why would you say that?”

“My mom died because I was too slow to call my dad. Dad died because he had a deal with a demon to save _me._ I was supposed to take care of my brother, and he died in my arms.”

“But you saved him. That is the reason you were in Hell in the first place, right?”

“Yeah, but he was my responsibility. And I let him die. _It was my fault that he died._ If only I had been there sooner, if only I was good enough…” Dean had tears streaming down his face, and Castiel felt Dean’s heart beat out of time.

He saved someone so broken. He pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead again and made him sleep. He gently whispered, “From now on, you’re my responsibility. It has now become my duty to keep you safe and never let you end up here again.”

He knew Dean couldn’t hear him, and it didn’t matter. As long as he knew he had told Dean that he would, it was a promise. A promise unheard by the other, but a promise nevertheless.

 

“What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?” Castiel asked, slowly regaining knowledge of the present situation.

“Why'd you do it?”

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

Dean knew good things didn’t exist. Maybe for other people, people that have something to hope for. He knew he wasn’t worth anything. He knows life wants to throw him to the ground and crush him in each and any way possible. Dean knew, he was sure, that true happiness would always be something out of reach for him.

_Always._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s Halloween—Dean and Sam are on a case investigating a series of strange deaths when they find out it’s connected to the raising of Samhain. Uriel and Castiel appear in their motel room, telling them they could’ve been dead if it weren’t for them. Hexbags were hidden in the walls.

An argument begins between the brothers and the angels; whether Uriel is right with blowing the town off the map or if they should give the Winchesters a chance.

 “We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning.”

“Castiel! I will not let these peop–“

“Enough! I suggest you move quickly.”

Castiel and Uriel were left alone. Uriel was a tall, black man. He had a sharp tongue and seemed to dislike the Winchesters’ attitude towards the crisis at hand. He believed he and Castiel should follow orders; they were from Heaven and they were created to be Heaven’s servants. Castiel defied these orders in favour of Dean’s.

He also heard what Castiel had whispered to Dean on their way out of Hell.

“I know he’s your responsibility, Castiel, but you also know this was your choice alone.”

“Yes, I do know.”

“Then why would you choose that monkey over Heaven?!”

Castiel searched the floor for answers. He had no good reason to tell Uriel, besides he felt it was the right thing to do. He also fully believed that Dean was not a monkey.

“They know what they’re doing.”

“How are you so sure?”

Castiel remained silent. _He wasn’t._ He just felt that they could stop it; he wasn’t sure or anything. He sat down near the window, looking at Sam and Dean getting into the Impala.

“I’m not.”

“This is a surprise, Castiel. Your loyalties were always to Heaven and to Heaven alone.”

“… Things… Things can change, Uriel.”

“So you’re saying… you have more faith in… in this man you dragged out of Hell than the very place who created you and gave you a purpose?! The very powers that made you what you are?! This is absurd, Castiel!”

“I’m not anything else! I am nothing but an angel. If I weren’t an angel, I would not have been me. I would be different. I would not even call myself with the pronoun _I._ Heaven did not make me what I am—I was and always am an angel, Uriel. You are the one making no sense to me.” Castiel was still staring out the window, and Dean already took off. He was praying that the Winchesters stop the raising of Samhain. He wanted to prove Uriel wrong, that they made the right choice in trusting the Winchesters.

“It’s not wrong to trust them, Uriel. We were made to follow their orders as well.” Castiel said, looking away from the window to talk to Uriel. He wanted him to understand that Heaven wanted this as well. It wasn’t only him.

“But Heaven’s orders are above anyone else’s! You know that, Castiel.”

“But these are the humans in our care!”                                                                    

“It doesn’t mean we put them above Heaven! And these are the humans in _your_ care. I do not hold any kind of responsibility over them, but considering I am under your authority, I will only do as you please.”

“Therefore, follow _my_ orders. You put your faith in the Winchesters. They are capable, Uriel. If Heaven has decided to save Dean from Hell, then he’s right. He _is_ worth something. He can do this.”

“I don’t understand your blind faith in him.” Castiel felt his vessel’s heart stop momentarily. _This is a human sign of nervousness_ , he thought. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly got confused and angry and upset. Yes, Castiel did not understand his faith in the Winchesters, but it made him furious whenever someone talked about them like that. Maybe it was an effect of feeling responsible.

The silence was broken by Uriel, sitting on the bed opposite Castiel.

“You are starting to feel, Castiel.”

“Nonsense.”

“Oh, stop it. I can see right through you.”

“See what?” He was puzzled. What did Uriel see that he didn’t? That he felt? _Nonsense_. He isn’t feeling anything, he’s just obeying orders.

“You like Dean.” Uriel said, mockery in his tone.

“That… that’s not true.” His palms were sweating, and he was unable to form coherent sentences in defense to what Uriel had just said. His face heated up and he saw his reflection in the window-- He was red as a cherry.

“Castiel, I am happy that you feel _love_. I have been told it is a wonderful thing, but we _are_ angels. We cannot feel. It is not a part of us.”

“… Yes. I know. I understand.”

Uriel turned his back and silently flew out of the room. Castiel realized he hasn’t clarified things yet. He stood up from his chair, nervous, and eyes fixed on the motel room floor; afraid to even look at Uriel. “But, I do not feel anything for... for Dean! Just so…”

“…you know.” His voice grew softer with each word, quickly processing the fact that he was talking to no one.

Unfortunately, the brothers did not stop the raising of Samhain. Although he was exorcised and he was sent back to Hell, the seal had been broken. Dean walks to the local park, watching the kids play. He remembers a time when he still could.

 

“Bobby! Over here!” he shouted as Bobby threw the ball as far as he could.

“Ha, old geezer. Can’t you try harder?” he threw the ball back to Bobby and glanced at Sam. Sam was playing in the sandbox with the other boys, laughing and being… happy. It was days like these that they both felt that life was still worth living, that life was still a thing to be happy for.

“Son, did you just call me _old?_ I’m gonna smack ya with a frying pan, come here!”

“I’d love to see you try!” Dean said as he ran from Bobby. Bobby tried to chase Dean, and he succeeded… after twenty minutes.

“Come here, you.” Bobby ruffled Dean’s hair as Dean hugged him. They sat on the bench, watching Sam play tag with the other kids. Dean was only ten, and Sam was six. Despite their young ages, both of them already knew they didn’t have a normal life.

“Wish we had more time to spend with you, Uncle Bobby. Going off with Dad all the time…”

“Your father only wants the best for you.”

“But we never have any fun! And we just hold guns all the time and lock ourselves up in the motel room, scared for our lives. I know this is usually Sam’s line, but I want a normal life too some days.”

“You know why you can’t have that, don’t you, Dean?”

“Yeah…”

“But that don’t mean you can’t be happy.” Dean looked up to smile at Bobby. He always loved spending time with him. He remembers when their dad would leave them at his place and they’d ride on his back, and Bobby would read stories about wendigos and vampires before they went to sleep. He also remembers Karen’s pies, which almost tasted as good as their mom’s. The Singer family was the only normal thing in the boys’ lives; they loved them dearly.

 

“Let me guess – you’re here for the ‘I told you so’.”

“No.” Castiel sat on the bench next to him.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested.”

“I am not here to judge you, Dean.” Dean felt relief shoot through him. He felt the angel’s sincerity in his voice, and for once in a long time, he didn’t feel like such a huge _freak._

 _“_ Then why are you here?

“Our orders –“

“Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours –“

“Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do.”

“Your orders were to follow my orders?”

“It was a test, to see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say.”

“It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive.”

“So I, uh, failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call. 'Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken, hell I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me.”

“You misunderstand me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.”

“You were?” Castiel’s heart fluttered for no reason he could really put a finger on. Maybe it was the disbelief in Dean’s eyes. Maybe it was because he saw how Dean’s eyes lit up—someone had trusted him again, someone had faith. He would never forget the things Dean had told him on their way out of Hell, and this… knowing it had made Dean even the tiniest bit happy, it made him happy as well.

“These people, they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art, and yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken and we are one step closer to hell on earth, for all creation. Now that’s not an expression, Dean, it's literal. You of all people should appreciate what that means. … Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”

“Okay.” Castiel was nervous. It was the first time he would ever share something so private with someone he hadn’t even known for at least a century. Even though it was something new, it just felt right in his heart.

“I’m not a… hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.”

Castiel disappeared, and Dean was alone with his thoughts again. He remembered when he doubted his father… when he trusted Bobby more than John. When John terrified him, and he got confused if something was right or wrong.

 

“Boys!” a deep, angry voice rattled the park. Sam stops playing and Dean stands up from the bench.

“Dad…”

“Bobby, I told you to get them to the motel before five!”

“I’m sorry your boys just wanted to have a bit of fun! You’re strangling them, John!”

“We’ll have this conversation in private.” John glared at Dean and Sam. “You two, get in the car.” Sam froze, obviously terrified. Dean was angry; he always hated it when his dad would do this in public. He grabbed Sam by the arm.

“Come on, Sammy. Don’t worry. Things will be okay.” He told Sam as tears streamed down the younger brother’s face. Dean wiped the tears from Sam’s eyes with his shirt and hugged him tight. “Things will be okay, Sammy. I’m here, don’t worry.” Sam held onto him tight, shaking. “It’ll be okay.”

They drove back to the motel, Bobby’s truck behind the Impala. Sam fell asleep in the backseat on Dean’s lap. _He must have been exhausted from crying_. As they reached the parking lot, Dean gently shook Sam awake, afraid that their Dad might scream again and scare Sam.

“Sammy, we’re here.” Sam rubbed his eyes, but Dean still noticed how scared Sam was. Sam held onto Dean’s arm as they walked towards the doorway of their room.

“You both go to bed. Uncle Bobby and I have things to discuss.”

Dean tucked Sam in, softly whispering. “Good night, Sammy. Sleep tight. I love you.”

Dean’s love for Sam was unwavering. He didn’t care how old he’d get—he’ll still punch anyone who hurt Sam. Although Dean thought of himself as someone tough and strong, that never mattered when he was with the people he loved. He was a huge softie, he just never wanted to let it show.

“I love you too.” Sam replied as he closed his eyes and dozed off.

Dean got into the bed with Sam, his face turned to the wall. He overheard his father’s _discussion._

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Singer? Those are _my_ boys.”

“You leave _your_ boys to me all the friggin’ time while you drink and fuck the pain away! I have as much right as you do.”

“What did you just say?” John’s voice was rising, his hands clenching into a fist.

“I’m trying to give these boys a life they can never have when they’re with you. I only want them to have some fun, every once in a while. But you set up these crazy curfews that don’t even make sense!”

“I set up curfews because there are things in the dark that could hurt them.”

“Oh, that’s _grand._ You gave them guns, John! They’re too young for this life!”

“You’ve been in _this_ life for what? Three months?! What do you know?!”

“I know enough that it does hurt losing someone you love! But it don’t mean you take it out on the boys!” Dean was shocked. _Uncle Bobby’s a hunter? Losing someone?_

“You don’t have the responsibility of raising two kids on your own.”

“I know. But I’m trying to help.”

“You’re trying to make them yours! You know you never wanted kids! Reason why you and Karen fought that night, remember?”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring her up.” Bobby pinned John to the wall, his fingers around John’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I forgot she’s _dead.”_ Dean froze. _Aunt Karen was dead?_ Dean started to cry. Karen was like a second mother to him and Sam. He couldn’t bear the thought. He also couldn’t understand why John was being such an asshole about it.

 _“_ That’s it, Winchester!” Bobby throws punches at John’s face and John falls to the floor.

“Hahaha, poor Bobby! Can’t handle anything when it comes to sweet, sweet Karen.” A twisted smile appeared on John’s face.

“You know what? You’re drunk. You’re not worth my time. Get some friggin’ sleep.” Bobby turned to the door, and looked back at the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and Bobby noticed the boy on the bed, chest heaving uncontrollably. He went back—John was still on the floor, laughing mindlessly. He sat on the bed opposite the brother’s and got out his handkerchief. He wiped Dean’s face dry.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that. Your father’s out of it. It’s gonna be fine. Take care of your brother. I’ll be back soon.”

“Dad… Dad scares me. What if he hurts Sam?” Bobby pulled out a phone from his jacket. He knew deep down that this day would come, that Dean would get scared and John would snap like that.

“Here. Don’t let your dad know you have this, you understand? Call me if something goes wrong. You know how to work a phone, don’t you, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean smiled a little, knowing that someone would save Sam just in case.

“You take care.” He pressed his lips onto Dean’s hair, a fatherly gesture Dean had missed. “Stop crying, okay?” Bobby said as he closed the door.

Dean cried himself to sleep that night.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The Winchesters met someone new, Anna Milton. Uriel and Castiel appeared at the barn, wanting to take Anna and kill her. Things were a bit shady about who she really is at first, but Pamela comes to the rescue. Anna Milton is an angel. They have hex bags to hide them from every angel and demon in creation—they’re safe, for now.

Dean is asleep.

“Look at that. It's so cute when monkeys wear clothes.” Uriel said, condescension in his tone.

“I'm dreaming, aren't I?”

“It's the only way we could chat... since you're hiding like cowards.”

“Don't normally see you off leash. Where's your boss?”

“Castiel? Oh, he, uh... He's not here. See, he has this weakness. He likes you.” Uriel’s voice was nothing short of serious. He wasn’t joking, and Dean noticed. Dean shifted nervously on his feet, Uriel’s revelation making him uncomfortable.

“Time's up, boy. We want the girl.”

Dean couldn’t fall asleep again, so he decided to drive off somewhere, to get his mind off things. He went to a nearby diner, a few miles away from the barn.

“One cheeseburger. Thanks.”

He knows there are much larger things to worry about, and he feels stupid for being affected like this by what Uriel said. Still, he can’t seem to get it out of his head. _Castiel likes him?_

Dean won’t deny it. He thinks the vessel Castiel had picked is attractive-- dark, brown hair, pink lips, nice build… piercing, blue eyes. _I swear, I know I’ve seen those eyes before. I’ve seen him before,_ he said to himself as he took a bite of his cheeseburger. He looked around the diner, making sure he didn’t look like a teenage girl thinking about some guy he finds cute.

_Nope. Dean Winchester is a badass motherfucker. I do not find anything, but girls, cute._

Luckily for him, no one, except the waitress and the cook, were in the room to witness his cheeks glow red at the thought of seeing Castiel again. He still remembers the day when they both just sat on the bench, talking. He felt bad that he was so engrossed in his own thoughts to actually pay attention to what Castiel was saying.

The door swung open, and he saw a man in a trenchcoat.

“Cas?”

“Dean.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean was suspicious of Castiel’s motives; he was with a lunatic angel who wanted to kill an innocent girl.

“My… my vessel has his cravings, at times. He wants a cheeseburger.”

“Oh. You could take mine. It only has one bite.” Cas sat down with Dean, his eyes fixed on the hunter across him.

“Thank you.” Cas said, biting into Dean’s burger while still staring intently at him.

“Uh, I’m going to go.” Dean said, uncomfortable. He remembers the fact that he can’t allow Cas to find out where they are.

“If chyou’re chinking thatsh I am going to chell churiel…” Cas said, bits of burger flying at Dean’s face.

“Seriously, Cas? Ever heard of not talking with your mouth full? Jeez.”  Dean wiped his face clean of burger and angel saliva. Despite that it was gross, he found Castiel adorable—munching on the burger, eyes filled with innocence… he didn’t really know how else to call it.

 _I am going to slap you, Winchester. We do not call anything adorable, not even girls. Much less Cas! Cas, the thousand year-old virgin! Dammit, Dean!_ Dean was mentally slapping himself.

“I’m not going to tell Uriel. I do not want to kill Anna. But, I am under his orders. That is the only reason why I’m with him.” Cas had just finished the burger and was now wiping his mouth.

“Why am I supposed to believe you?” Dean said, standing up.

“Because angels do not lie. And, Dean. I couldn’t help but hear your thoughts… that was flattering, but at the same time very rude.”

“Tha—that’s it, Cas! I’m leaving! Good night!” Dean’s face turned into a bright hue of pink. _Cas just found out I thought he was adorable! Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

“Wait, Dean.” Cas grabbed Dean’s wrist, stopping him from walking out on him.

“What?” Dean’s voice was shaking; he stared at the ground, praying that somebody would take him out of his misery. This was _beyond_ embarrassing.

“Uriel… did not lie when he told you that… that I…”

“You _like_ me?”

“Yes.” Cas replied, his grip loosening on the hunter’s wrist.

“That’s nice, Cas, but there are too many things on my plate right now. I don’t think… I don’t think it can work out right now, you know?” Dean said, his eyes looking into Cas’. He was scared that Cas thought he was rejecting him because that was completely _untrue_. He just thought it wasn’t the right time.

“I understand.” Cas’ hands were at his sides, obviously misconstruing Dean’s speech. He looked down, disappointed and disappeared in a flutter of wings.

_Dammit, Dean._

They were on the way back to Bobby’s. Ruby was bleeding, Anna was a full-blown angel again, and Castiel and Uriel weren’t on their tails. It seemed like a good moment for a celebratory beer.

“I know you heard him.”

“Who?”

 “Alastair. What he said... about how I had promise."

“I heard him.”

“You're not curious?”

“Dean, I'm damn curious. But you're not talking about Hell, and I'm not pushing.”

“It wasn't four months, you know.”

“What?”

 “It was four months up here, but down there... I don't know. Time's different. It was more like 40 years.”

 “My God.”

“They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you... Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... just so they could start in all over. And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack... if I put souls on... if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The -- the things that I did to them.”

“Dean... Dean, look, you held out for 30 years. That's longer than anyone would have.”

“How I feel... This... inside me... I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.”

They got in the car and started to drive to Bobby’s. Sam couldn’t say anything—he knew nothing could snap Dean out of this right now. After a few hours, he decided to break the silence.

“Dean. Can I ask you something?” Sam said, fidgeting in his seat.

“Sure, Sammy. You seem nervous. What is it?” Sam laughed anxiously, afraid of what his brother’s reaction would be.

“You saw the look on Cas’ face when Anna kissed you, didn’t you?” he teased.

“You heard the guy. They had _history._ ”

“I really don’t think Cas and Anna… Angels don’t feel, Dean.”

“So, what you’re saying is?” Dean was getting irritated. He did not want to be reminded of the diner incident. Yet, here’s Sam. _Friggin’ great._ The silence lingered in the air momentarily.

“Spit it out, Sam!” Dean hit the steering wheel out of pure frustration. _What the hell is Sam getting at?_

“Nothing! Nothing. Pretend this never happened.” Sam’s hands were in the air, as if to surrender.

“Alright, good.” Dean turned up the volume, AC/DC blaring as they went down the highway.

They stopped at a field. Sam was jumping into the backseat while Dean tried to make himself cozy in the front seats. _Tried._

“Night, Dean. Sleep tight.” Sam chuckled under his breath. He found his brother’s uncomfortable situation humorous. He deserved it for snapping at him for asking about Cas.

It was around 2am when Dean finally fell asleep and started to dream.

“Cas. What are you doing here?” he said, approaching the angel that was seated peacefully on the grass. Dean’s dream was an empty field—the stars shone brightly, competing with the moonlight. It was quiet and safe; he knew nothing could hurt him here.

“Dean.” His eyes lit up as he started to stand.

“No, it’s fine. Just sit.” Dean pushed down Cas’ shoulders gently, telling him silently to relax. “I did not wish to startle you in your sleep,” he explained as Dean sat down beside him. “so I waited until you noticed me.”

“I didn’t take long, did I?” Dean absorbed all of the angel’s features; he looked so serene. He liked it when things were like this—he liked taking a break from the violent, loud life he always had.

“No, not at all.” Cas looked down as a smile slowly formed on his face.

“So, why are you here? I guess you wanted to talk to me or somethin’.”

“Yes. I—I overheard your conversation with Sam.”

“Which one?” Dean’s heart skipped a beat. _What if Cas heard what we talked about in the car? Stop screwing shit up, Dean. I friggin’ hate you._

“After you escaped from Alastair and Uriel and I. I want to say that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Dean’s eyes were fixed on Cas, searching his face for an answer.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I want you to understand. Please try to let me finish before anything. Please, Dean.” Cas looked up from the dandelion he was playing with to meet Dean’s gaze. His eyes glowed emerald under the eternal moonlight of his dream. He couldn’t hold it for much longer—he was afraid to see Dean broken again.

“When we reached the surface of Earth, I asked my superiors to erase your memory of Hell. I told them that I would not let go of you until they did. Unfortunately, they could not do that. They told me that your time in Hell is a _learning experience_. I bargained with them until we agreed to a compromise; I would let you go if your memory of the journey out of Hell was erased. That… that seemed to be the most painful part of all for you, Dean. But I feel it’s not enough. I could have done more. I’m truly sorry.” Cas stared up at the stars, praying that Dean would understand.

“Hey.” Cas refused to look at Dean, afraid of whatever emotion that was in his eyes.

“Cas, hey. Come on.” Dean said as he put his hand on the angel’s chin, turning his head gently until it faced his own. “There. Much better.” Dean smiled, his hand retreating to his side.

“I want you to know that… I don’t blame you. Don’t do this to yourself, Cas. This ain’t your fault. Do you understand?”

Cas nodded.

“Everything… absolutely everything. Those were all _my_ decisions. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You did what you can, and I’m grateful for it.”

“Don’t try to justify this. I could’ve done more, Dean. I was too weak. I—“

“Look. Your superiors are dirty bastards. To know that they thought it was a _learning experience_ for me, it’s a fucking joke. It’s alright, Cas. I’ll be fine.” Dean said, breaking his gaze. His smile was pained; Castiel could easily see.

“Dean…” a tear rolled off Dean’s cheek. “I’m sorry.” He looked at the man beside him, chest heaving. He felt something inside him was slightly pained at the sight.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, Cas. I’m okay.” One tear turned into two, three, and then four… it continued to fall on the cold grass, reflecting the moonlight in tiny pieces.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes searched the ground for something to say, before deciding that it was best to leave Dean alone. In a ruffle of wings, Cas disappeared.

“Dammit, Cas. Always leaving like that. I’ll get back at you, someday.” Dean wiped the tears from his cheeks violently, forcing a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

 “If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?” the angel was standing behind Dean, stoic as usual.

“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite.” Dean was startled. _Cas really thought of me like that?_ He refused to dwell on this—he had more things to worry about. He changed the topic, trying to avoid the look of disappointment painted on Castiel’s face.

“So, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?”

“Yes.”  Cas’ answer felt like a bucket of rocks thrown at him. Dean knew _very well_ what it felt like to lose people to death. _If even just one town could be saved from that, why the fuck not_?Dean thought.

“These are good people. What, you think you can make a few exceptions?”

“To everything there is a season.”

“You made an exception for me.” Castiel paused—he knew Dean was an exception due to Heaven’s will, not his. However, he felt the question was more on a personal level than an inquiry addressed to his superiors.

“You're different.” He replied, and disappeared. Cas never wanted to elaborate further; he feared that the feeling would be unrequited, and he did not want to involve himself in any of these human feelings. He refused to feel, as it did nothing but hurt and disappoint him.

 

 

The brothers entered their motel room, and as they flicked on the lights, Uriel and Cas were standing there. The angels kidnapped Dean, and he later finds out that the angels wanted him to _interrogate_ Alastair, ask him who’s been killing the angels.

Dean didn’t want to do it. He was afraid. It was a reminder of Hell.

 

“Dean! You’re doing very good. You could be as good as me with a few more years.” Alastair said, approaching Dean who just finished tearing up a soul.

“Thanks.”

“I never knew you had it in you, Winchester. Being the good guy, and all.”

“Things change. Hell changes you. Survival of the fittest. No one actually _dies_ though, but you could make the stay less painful.” Dean replied, sitting down with Alastair near the glass case of knives and sticks.

“Good choice. I won’t be surprised if I writhe in pain under your hands. Imagine, me, _the grand inquisitor_ , screaming in pain because of _you._ You should be honoured, Dean. I rarely give compliments.”

 

He wanted to talk to Cas. Maybe he could change his mind and he would poof Dean back, out of this hellhole.

“What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”

“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.” Cas replied, his head down like a limp branch.

“Your sympathies?”

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You.” Castiel stopped to stare at Dean, searching his face for any kind of understanding. “They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.”

“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me.” Dean seemed to be uncomfortable discussing the topic of Cas’ emotions, especially the emotions concerning _him._

“Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.”

“You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.” The hunter’s eyes were starting to turn into moss-covered stones at a swamp—dark and sad.

“For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.” Dean closes his eyes, and walks into the room, anxiety making his heart race. He did not want to see Alastair, nor did he want to prove what Alastair told him in Hell was right. It wasn’t a compliment, it was a plague consuming him inside-out.

Weeks passed and they failed to stop the breaking of the seals. It was the beginning of the end. Dean and Sam had parted ways. He was all alone, until Castiel asked him for help to find Raphael. They’ve gathered everything they needed; now all they had to do was wait.

“Tell me something. You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?”

“No, it's harder.”

“Do we have any chance of surviving this?”

“You do.”

“So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

 “Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?”

“I just thought I'd sit here quietly.”

“Come on, anything? Booze, women?” Castiel glares at Dean, obviously uncomfortable.

“You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?” the angel rubbed the back of his neck, a response from being anxious with Dean’s next words.

“You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?”

“I've never had occasion, okay?” _So, Cas is a thousand year-old virgin. Jesus Christ._

“All right.” Dean grabbed his jacket. “Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go.” Castiel stares for a while, unsure of what to do but later gives in to Dean.

They go to a bar but then Castiel mentions something about _Chastity’s_ absent father while trying to get laid, and they get ran out by the bouncers.

“What's so funny?” Cas asks, Dean closing the door behind them, laughing.

“Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.” Cas noticed how Dean’s face fell. He was glad that he was able to make Dean happy, but the sorrow overcame that quickly. He felt bad, but he didn’t know what to say or do.

“Hey, Cas. You up to go somewhere else? Night’s still young.” Dean asked, a nervous smile on his face. _You’ve asked a girl out hundreds of times before, Dean. Stop your friggin’ knees from shaking, goddammit, calm the fuck down._

“Sure.”

They stopped at a lake, the water reflecting the stars back to the heavens. It was a bit cold, but the breeze was refreshing. They proceeded to sit on the edge of the pier, arms brushing softly with the other’s.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

“Yeah.” Dean stared up, while Cas took in everything on Dean’s face. His freckles were more obvious as the moonlight shone on his face, but Cas loved them anyway. It was his imperfections that drew him more and more to Dean.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. I always pushed you around, I even tried pushing you away from me. I’m sorry. I failed you, even after you sacrificed so much. Cas, I—“

“It’s alright, Dean. I was too caught up… I would never be angry with you.” Dean smiled sadly. Cas was too good for him. He was broken and angry—he faked and lied. _What could Cas possibly see in me?_

“You know how Sam’s gone, right?” he spoke, looking down at his boots, barely touching the calm water beneath it. “Every… Everyone around me dies or leaves me or I lose them and I—“

“Don’t say that!” Cas glared at him. His expression was not that of anger, but bordering more on concern. “Those were… unavoidable circumstances. Their deaths, their departures—those aren’t your fault.” Castiel was brought back to thoughts, _memories_ of Hell. He remembered how Dean blamed himself and sobbed into his arms. Dean’s heart was good, but it was stained by sorrow and loss.

“It was, Cas! Pamela, for example. If… if Sam and I never dragged her back in, she would’ve still been alive! Everyone around me leaves or dies… I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep building relationships that get thrown away so easily. That’s why, in the diner, I told you it couldn’t work out right _now_. I’m… I’m scared to lose you too, Cas.”

Cas’ tongue got stuck for a while; he never expected this from Dean. He thought Dean was rejecting him back then, but he was only afraid. “You won’t, Dean.” He said, voice wanting to raise Dean’s spirits.

“How are you so sure?”

“I made a promise to watch over you.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll stay here forever.”

“I’ve been wandering Earth for thousands of years.” Cas looked straight into Dean’s eyes, as Dean did the same.

“What if you die just because you’re around me?”

“What a pleasant way to die, then.” The exchanged soft smiles, Cas’ subtler than Dean’s. Dean’s hand was inching closer to the angel’s.

“What if you leave me?”

“I wouldn’t do that intentionally.”

“What if I lose you?”

“Then I’ll find a way to come back.”

“Would you do that every single time?”

“Dean, you are a child. You have so many questions.” Cas looked down at their hands, surprised at how close they were. Dean noticed the look on Cas’ face and covered Cas’ hands with his own. It was rough, but it was warm. The mere fact Cas was there, right beside him, warm and alive; it made Dean’s heart lighter. He felt safe beside Cas.

“Is that a no?” he asked, gently squeezing the angel’s hand, as if assuring himself that Cas was real. He was looking at their hands, their fingers fitting perfectly—like it belonged right _there_ all along.

“I’ll always come back to you.” Cas’ free hand tilted Dean’s head to face him. The world seemingly stopped as sapphire met emerald. Dean’s heart fluttered like angel wings at the mere touch.

“Cas, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Have you… you know, felt something for someone before? I mean, we’ve established that you’ve never gotten laid but,” Cas’ expression scrunched up, telling Dean something like _stop embarrassing me_. “I should stop talking now.” Cas smiled when Dean’s cheeks flushed from embarrassment of his own.

“No, I haven’t. I did not know how to feel. Until… you.” They gazed at each other for what seemed like forever, but Dean remembered, Cas was a _virgin._ He probably had seen this stuff happen tons of times before, but he was never really in _this_ situation. Dean decided to take the lead, moving closer to Castiel until his lips pressed with the angel’s. Surprisingly, Cas took his lower lip between his own, licking it softly. Dean’s hands snaked up Castiel’s chest to the back of his neck and placing one in his hair, tugging gently while Cas’ were on the sides of his face, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s cheek. Their tongues danced with each other under the silver moonlight, Cas slowly lowering Dean onto the cold wood of the pier. Dean hooked his hands around Castiel’s neck, Cas letting go of Dean to place his hands on the pier, supporting him as he straddled Dean. He felt like he was being pulled down to Earth, he started to think-- if this was what falling felt like, he wanted to fall. _Now._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very bad with titles and summaries. /sobs
> 
> Anyway, this was intended to be more than four chapters. But I... got scared of the chapters I was writing for it after chapter four. It was complete shit. If this gets good reviews, I might get to finishing it but still, _meh_.
> 
> I regret not doing a chapter for end!verse well I suck /cries
> 
> Thanks to [Zheru](http://twitter.com/ptvzheru) for checking my grammar nyaha love you.
> 
> Also to everyone else who gave their thoughts while I was still writing. [Nicole](http://twitter.com/iukeskywaiker), [Mahika](http://twitter.com/fantasy_fallacy), [Sashi](http://twitter.com/vulcancameos), [Becky](http://twitter.com/yumpadacklins), [Alessia](http://twitter.com/hariequinn), and [Yasmin](http://twitter.com/Synfulunic0rn_). ♥
> 
> This is proof that I like feedback. /laughs


End file.
